


Another Saturday Night

by SirCumference



Series: Smutshots by SirCumference [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Butt Plugs, Butt Slapping, Dry Humping, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, Humor, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, M/M, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), POV Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Recreational Drug Use, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shameless Smut, Stoner Keith (Voltron), Tattooed Keith (Voltron), Top Lance (Voltron), dumb keith, everyone is canadian, humiliation but its not a sex thing, keiths just really dumb and embarrasses himself, lance is also dumb but less dumb in this, pierced keith, that's right even in my smutfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirCumference/pseuds/SirCumference
Summary: Keith's plans to spend a cozy night in go awry. One minute he's high as shit, next he's realizing he forgot to take his buttplug out.Hopefully, Lance won't notice. Keith's not embarrassing himself tonight.OrKeith and Lance get high. You won't believe what happens next.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Smutshots by SirCumference [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583875
Comments: 75
Kudos: 994





	Another Saturday Night

**Author's Note:**

> "Write the fics you want to see in the world," they said, so here's a 10k porn with plot stoner Klance fic featuring buttplugs, pining Lance, and oblivious Keith.
> 
> (I'm still writing Back to the Wall, no worries. Things just got a little heavy there and I wanted to cleanse my palate with shameless smut)
> 
> Some info about Keith and Lance's appearances in this AU (aka how I pictured them while writing this):  
> \- Keith's semi-heavily tatted and pierced. His arms and shoulders are inked, as are his hands. His septum, tongue, and dick are all explicitly mentioned as being pierced in the fic, but you can picture him with as many as you want. There are no rules.  
> \- He's wearing a neon orange sweatshirt hoodie and joggers, and his hair is kind of haphazardly tied up  
> \- Lance has a sort of gym boy/preppy thing going, he's wearing jeans, sneakers, a denim jacket and hoodie.  
> \- They're both in their mid 20s
> 
> Big thanks to Squelette and Kricket aka ceilingpool for writing porns and inspiring me to do it too, and big thanks to Squelette and Max for betaing. Y'all are too good for this world.
> 
> Here's baby's first smut oneshot. Enjoy!

Keith sighs, tapping Grindr’s “block” button on his screen for the second time since he sat down an hour-ish ago. He’s had a couple takers tonight, but the first dude turned out to be “straight and discreet” — something Keith has absolutely no time for anymore. Doinking closeted guys in the dark kind of lost its charm when he realized that eye-contact can actually be kind of hot.

The second dude seemed promising, but after a solid ten minutes of conversation and a couple dick bulge pics, he skimmed over the dude’s profile again and realized he had “drug free” in his bio. Unfortunate, since Keith is currently high as hell with weed paraphernalia scattered on the end table he dragged in front of himself. He’d preemptively rolled a second joint for himself before kicking off his night, knowing his normally _very_ dextrous hands would definitely lose their precision after half a gram of… what was it that he smoked?

“Spinach?” he mutters to himself, reading the label on his government-approved weed container. Who the fuck names weed after a salad ingredient?

He makes a mental note to ask Pidge about how people name cannabis strains. After a minute of considering it, he figures there’s no time like the present.

  
>how do people name weed strains

She sends a reply before he even closes the app.

>keith i’m working

  
>nooooo

>jesus christ

He squints at his screen, bopping his septum ring with pursed lips as those little three dots blink a couple times. When they disappear, Keith figures that maybe Pidge is just gonna opt to ignore him in favour of whatever game dev-related things she does to make money. After a minute, though, she sends him a link.

>found a leafly article about it. Happy reading!  
>stop bothering me now I wanna be home before midnight

  
>siiiiiiiiickkkkkkk  


[](https://www.leafly.ca/news/strains-products/cannabis-strain-names>Leafly:%20How%20Does%20a%20Cannabis%20Strain%20Get%20Its%20Name?</a><br%20/>%0A>stop%20bothering%20me%20now%20I%20wanna%20be%20home%20before%20midnight</p>%0A%0A<p>%C2%A0</p>%0A%0A<p></p><div%20align=)

He opens the link and is immediately met with a prompt asking for his province of residence. A message telling him Leafly isn’t available in his region yet pops up the second after he selects QC from a drop down list. Damn. Bummer.

  
>its not letting me open because quebec

>just tell it you live in ontario dumb shit

Ooooh. Sure enough, it lets him in and he’s happily reading an article about naming cannabis strains not a moment later.

“Heh, ‘Grandaddy Purple’” he chuckles, reading a paragraph about how said strain was named after its mauvish hue. Before he can continue, though, he hears the telltale sound of someone making their way up the back stairwell.

It sounds like Lance. Pidge barely makes any noise when she walks, and Hunk’s gait is a lot less…rhythmic. Keith has no fucking clue when he managed to distinguish the sounds each of his roommates make when walking up stairs, but they’ve been living together for… a while? A year? Maybe a year and a half now—

“Hey, man!” Lance greets, locking the door behind him and kicking off his sneakers. Keith stretches his neck back to get an upside-down look at him.

“How long have we all been living together?”

“Four months,” Lance replies after a beat. He walks over into the living room and shrugs his gym bag off his shoulder before plopping himself down on the papasan diagonal to the sofa. He squints at Keith a moment later. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Only four months?!” Keith gasps. “I thought it was, like, a year.”

“Dude, we moved here in July. It’s November.”

Keith trills his lips. “Time is weird.”

“Okay,” Lance points a finger at him, “you’re high.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, his eyes trailing over the open grinder, metal tin-turned-ashtray, carton of rolling papers, lighter, and two weed containers on the little table in front of him.

“No,” he deadpans.

“Rough day?” Lance asks.

Keith snorts. “What gave it away?”

“You don’t usually do this inside ‘cause you feel bad for the animals.” Lance brings one foot onto his opposite knee and leans further back in the chair. “Where are they, by the way?”

“Kosmo’s in my room and Blue’s outside.”

“Nice, considerate of you.”

Lance turns on the TV and fiddles with his phone, no doubt trying to find something to watch. They settle into a comfortable silence, and Keith gives Grindr one final look-over. To be entirely honest, he had been looking for someone to fuck more out of boredom than thirst. Now that Lance is here, the interest is kind of gone.

It’s a relief, really. Spending an evening chilling with Lance is one of those things that requires so little effort, Keith doesn’t even mind doing it after a particularly rough work day. They may not know one another all that well, and they may have gotten off on the wrong foot years ago, but the Lance Keith knows now is a different person than the one he knew when Pidge introduced them in college. He’s less jealous, less weirdly antagonistic, and a lot easier to talk to.

Thank god, honestly. Keith wouldn’t have agreed to live with them otherwise.

“Soooo,” Lance drawls, tapping his phone to Chromecast a Bon Appetit video about… catfish fishing? Apparently. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Your shitty day.” Lance smirks, shooting Keith a look from the corner of his eye. “What happened?”

Keith groans, melting a little further into the couch. “Had to pierce a 17-year-old’s belly button. She cried and her mom got mad at me.”

Lance winces, shifting his body to face him. “Shit, that sucks, bud. Nothing else went wrong, though?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, the piercing was fine. Everything was normal, but I think she just didn’t expect it to hurt as bad as it did. Obviously, _that’s_ somehow my fault.”

“People suck,” Lance nods emphatically.

“Didn’t tip me either,” Keith adds.

Lance scowls. “Bullshit.”

“I know.” He sighs. “What can you do, right?”

“Get high and watch three dudes hunt catfish, apparently.”

Keith chuckles, a slight warmth blossoming in his chest as Lance follows suit. He tells himself it’s because of the weed and not because Lance made him laugh. It’s not like that doesn’t happen often, now — they’re _friends_. Friends that live together and see each other often. Keith thought he’d get used to it.

Apparently not. Not yet, at least. But… he shouldn’t dwell on it. Trying to examine his feelings while high on “Spinach” probably isn’t the smartest thing he could do with his time. Last time he tried, Keith ended up in a tearful phone call to his mother, apologizing for calling her a bitch when he was fourteen. She answered him on speakerphone because she was cutting carrots, and her boyfriend heard everything. Kolivan hasn’t let him live it down since.

So yeah. No attempts at examining his feelings. No embarrassing himself tonight.

They’re probably fifteen minutes into the video when Keith decides he’s ready for round two.

“Weed?” he offers, picking up the joint from the table next to him.

Lance raises an eyebrow in his direction. “You’re doing another one?”

“It’s mild. It’s not strong, you know I hate that shit.”

“Fair. Yeah, I’m down.”

He scoots over, making room for Lance on the couch. The moment he sits up, though, a sharp pang of pleasure against his prostate reminds him the plug he had put in before he’d started smoking is very much _still there_. Holy _shit_ , he had literally forgotten about it. Keith literally didn’t realize that could happen.

Look, don’t judge him, alright? He was under the impression his night was going to be spent getting high and getting fucked in that order, and Keith always plans ahead. He’d known Hunk was spending the night at his girlfriend’s place and Pidge was crunching at work. It’s also a Saturday night, and nine times out of ten, Lance spends Saturdays out with his more extroverted friends. He hadn’t really accounted for the possibility of someone else being home — at least, not ‘til much later.

Point is, he’s got two options:

  1. Do the smart thing and excuse himself to the bathroom to remove the plug like a sane person.
  2. Tough it out because he doesn’t want to move from the couch.



Against his much better judgement, Keith settles on option two.

“Uhh,” Lance grunts, ripping Keith out of his head. “You gonna light it?”

Damn, he must have zoned out for a little while there.

“Mhm,” Keith responds, as casually as possible. He managed to ignore the buttplug in his ass for an hour already, so this should be a piece of cake. Sneaking a very subtle glance at his crotch, Keith is relieved to note that his dick isn’t hard. That’s definitely good, he muses, before bringing the joint to his lips and flicking the lighter.

It takes maybe five attempts before Lance is openly laughing at him. Keith scowls back, the joint hanging from his lips.

“Dude,” Lance grins, snatching the lighter from his hand and the joint from his mouth. Keith’s heart does not stutter. “Your hands aren’t working; lemme do it.”

“ _Your_ hands aren’t working,” Keith retorts like an actual child.

He leans back on the couch, deftly avoiding any sort of pressure on his ass. Now that he’s newly aware of the plug, Keith can’t ignore that it kind of feels really fucking good. Which is… unfortunate. He should probably take it out. If Lance figures out what’s going on, he’d likely never live it down.

Then again, it _feels good_. And Keith’s had a long day of wrestling with unfounded guilt and regret for hurting a girl and making her cry. Don’t get him wrong — he loves his job, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. But hurting people for a living can sometimes get a bit heavy, especially when they’re not happy afterward.

Keith deserves to feel a little good once in a while. It’s only human.

A distant, sober voice of reason in the back of his head reminds him that this is the worst idea he’s ever had. It sounds like Shiro’s voice, and it’s telling him to get over himself and go take out the plug. He ignores it.

Lance takes what must be his third drag, slightly lidded eyes trained on the TV screen. “Cool if I hog it another minute?” he asks Keith when he notices him watching. “I’m trying to get on your level.”

“S’cool,” Keith drawls, leaning his head back into the couch cushions. His limbs are heavy and his mouth is kinda dry, and he probably doesn’t need much more weed anyway. Especially given his already terrible judgement. “You can have most of it.”

The easy quiet that falls over them unwinds his nerves a little. Keith lets himself enjoy the undulating buzz in his head and slight tingling in his limbs. After taking a couple hits of his own and passing the joint back to Lance, Keith takes a little risk and clenches his ass muscles experimentally. _Fuck_ , that’s good. He is such an idiot.

“You ever pierce someone’s genitals?” Lance asks out of fucking nowhere. He’s wearing this innocent and curious expression when Keith whips his head over. _The fuck?_

“You definitely have,” Lance chuckles, pointing the joint at him as he settles back into the corner of the couch. “You’re totally making that face.”

“What face?”

“You know,” he responds, gesturing a little. “When you get all red and embarrassed.” He takes a long hit, raising an eyebrow at Keith. “I don’t see what’s embarrassing about it; it’s literally your job.”

Keith chooses to ignore the way the smoke curls out from between Lance’s lips, and crosses his arms instead. “Fine, yeah I have. Sort of.”

“... Sort of?”

He furrows his brow, trying to think of the simplest way to explain this without infodumping.

“Yeah, I’ve pierced like… labia. And I’ve done surface piercings on dicks, but nothing though the head or through a clit. I’m not trained for that sort of thing, but my boss is, so…” He squints, fixing Lance with a confused look. “Why?”

“Just curious,” is all he gets in response along with a single-shoulder shrug. Lance’s attention is back on the TV a moment later, though Keith’s brain is a little slow on the uptake and doesn’t follow suit. He still doesn’t look away when Lance starts slipping out of his denim jacket and throwing it over to the papasan, nor when he slips his sweatshirt off over his head, pulling his t-shirt up for a split second to reveal a sliver of smooth brown skin and a dusting of hair leading from Lance’s navel to his belt.

Jesus, now is _so_ not the time to get thirsty. Especially not for his straight roommate. He should really, _really_ take the damn buttplug out.

Just as he’s about to excuse himself, though, Lance is opening his mouth again.

“Are they painful?”

“What?”

“Dick piercings.”

Keith scrunches up his face, fixing Lance with another puzzled look. “Why, you want one?”

“Nah, I’m literally just curious,” Lance replies completely innocently. He shrugs again. “Guess it’s kind of a foreign concept to me, you know? Not something I’ve ever considered.”

Fair, honestly. Lance’s body is completely mod-free, and he asked Keith a bunch of questions about his sleeve back in the summer when it was getting finished. Now that he thinks of it, they were kind of in a similar situation—smoking a joint on this couch and watching Youtube videos. The only difference, obviously, is Keith wasn’t wearing a buttplug then.

“The one I have was fine, but I’m a little desensitized. It hurts less when you do it to yourself.”

Lance’s eyes widen like saucers. _Shit_ , yeah, he definitely didn’t know about Keith’s homebrewed dick piercing. This is gonna be weird.

“Duuuude,” Lance drawls, grinning. “You pierced your own dick? That’s wild.” He takes a final drag from the joint and leans over to put it out before settling back into the couch, amusement in his eyes. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

Keith blinks. “Huh?”

“You know,” Lance adds, waving his hand a little. “You’re you. You do weird shit when you’re bored.”

That is…definitely an accurate assessment.

“No, I don’t.” But it’s not like he’s going to let Lance know he’s right, obviously.

“Ya-huh,” Lance scoffs. “Remember when you gave stick and poke tattoos to five bananas?”

“They were going bad,” he retorts.

“Or when you carved, like, three pumpkins in the bathtub?”

“No one needed to shower. It was easy cleanup.”

“You weren’t even high that time,” Lance laughs. “Honestly, I’m kind of jealous sometimes. You have so much fun alone at home. I wish I knew how to do that.”

Lance doesn’t know the half of it, honestly. That is, the half that’s more M-rated.

“It was… intimidating, you know? At first,” he continues.

Keith blinks. What?

“I didn’t know how to talk to you for a while.” His eyes trail back to the TV, but he doesn’t seem like he’s done talking. “I thought you were this super creative tatted dude. You didn’t seem to care what anyone thought, you just did your own thing —”

Lance is doing that thing he always does after smoking, where he runs his mouth without any semblance of knowing where he’s going. It happens every time, and Keith’s grown to appreciate it. It’s nice to have someone fill the silence. This, though, is a little different. He’s not talking about work, or girls, or his family, or his cat, or the gym.

He’s talking… about Keith. It’s weird.

“I dunno. I’m glad we’re friends.” Lance shoots him a very sincere half-smile.

Yep. Definitely weird.

“Anyway, I saw this chick with the biggest ass ever on the bus home —”

Ah. There’s the Lance Keith knows.

“I didn’t want to be rude, but she caught me looking and winked at me, so I figured I don’t need to feel bad, you know?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “When do you ever feel bad?”

“Hey,” Lance says, fixing him with a pointed look. “I’m a gentleman.”

“Sure you are.”

“Part of me wanted to ask for her number or something, but I didn’t wanna push it.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I dunno,” Lance shrugs. He deflates a little, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s kinda hard, you know? Like… _getting_ with people.”

Keith considers that. If he’s being honest, it’s very much _not_ hard for him to “get with” people, if your definition of “getting with” people is finding someone to bang once and never see again. Last time Keith checked, this wasn’t something Lance had any issue with either. They were both frequent users of hookup apps; that much isn’t really a secret. Keith’s eaten breakfast next to random women Lance has brought home probably a handful of times.

“How is it hard?” Keith asks bluntly. “You bring girls home all the time.”

“I mean, like,” he huffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Dating, I dunno. Even just hanging out with people. I haven’t felt _invested_ in something… or someone, in a while. I miss it.”

“Yeah?”

“And now that Hunk’s dating someone, it’s been on my mind a lot. I dunno.”

Keith hums and wracks his brain for something comforting to say, knowing that Lance is probably indirectly asking for that kind of thing right now. For all Keith’s discomfort with socialization, he’s become pretty good at the whole ‘comforting friends’ thing — oddly enough, especially when it comes to Lance.

“Hey,” he starts, poking Lance’s thigh with his socked foot. “You’ll find someone. Next time a girl winks at you on the bus, give her your number.”

Lance huffs out a laugh. “Yeah?”

“You miss the shots you don’t take,” Keith adds, echoing Shiro’s advice to him when he was considering asking Allura for an apprenticeship three years ago. It ended up being the best advice he could have received.

“What if there isn’t a next time?” Lance asks, a strained tone of amusement masking the obvious worry in his voice.

“There’s always a next time,” he answers.

Lance seems satisfied with this. He smiles a little, turning his attention back to the TV. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.”

That seems like the end of it. Keith takes a deep breath to steady himself and decides that he should _really_ just go take the fucking buttplug out so he can stop stressing about it. He utters a silent prayer to whatever deity might be looking over him and laughing right now, and pushes himself up from the couch.

The movement _definitely_ shifts things a little, but Keith has a well-practiced poker face. He starts toward the bathroom, doing everything he can to ignore the very pleasant fullness in his ass in favour of getting to his destination as quick as po—

“Hey, can you grab me some peanuts while you’re up?”

 _Fuck_ , Keith curses to himself. He’s trying to act normal, though, and normal Keith wouldn’t really bat an eye at the request.

It’ll be fine, he tells himself.

“Uh, sure where are they?”

“In the snack drawer. Bottom right cupboard.”

It sounds easy enough. But when Keith squats down to open the drawer, the change in position pushes his glass plug out a little. Instinctively, Keith clenches his ass muscles to hold it in, resulting in the completely unintended effect of having it brush right up against his G-spot in just the _right_ way.

“ _Fffuck,_ ” Keith mutters, his eyes closing and rolling back in his head. He can’t really help it anymore. The high is definitely making things feel a little stronger than they normally would, and suddenly the weight in his ass is all he can think about. Damn, Keith. Way to go. You’re an idiot.

“Keith? You okay?”

When he opens his eyes, Lance is staring right at him from the couch. Still squatting and probably more than a little flushed, he purses his lips together and nods his head.

“Peachy,” he manages to respond. There’s definitely no way he’s getting out of this.

“Something wrong?” Alright, so Lance both looks and sounds genuinely concerned. His eyes are a tad bloodshot, and he hasn’t moved from his seat.

Keith sighs, scrunching up his face. “Don’t judge me.”

“What?” Lance blinks. “Did you eat all my peanuts?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “No, no, uh…I kinda…” Lord have mercy. “I’ve been wearing a buttplug this whole time—” Keith might actually die today. “—‘cause I didn’t think anyone would be home.”

When he reluctantly looks up again, he’s unsurprised to find an absolutely incredulous expression plastered on Lance’s face.

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” Keith deadpans. Jesus, if this isn’t the most embarrassing —

“Dude!” Lance yells, sputtering out a laugh. It builds to a full-on cackle in an instant, and Keith’s face reddens by the second. “Why didn’t you just take it out?”

“‘Cause I’m fucking dumb, apparently.”

“Holy SHIT!” Lance shakes his head. “You’re — oh my god, Keith, you’re so fucking nuts —”

“Okay,” Keith mutters, standing up and wincing after he grabs the half litre container of nuts. He somehow manages to suppress a moan. “I’m gonna take it out now —”

“Why?”

He glares at Lance’s shit-eating grin, a hot wave of embarrassment rolling over him anew.

“I mean,” Lance shrugs, straightening his face. “Don’t upend your plans because of me. If you wanted to get high and chill with your buttplug, it’s your right. It’s your home.”

That’s… huh. That is literally not how Keith thought this would go.

“I would offer to go to my room if you want privacy, or whatever, but I’m… pretty stoned, honestly,” Lance adds, chuckling. “I’m not getting off this couch anytime soon.”

“You sure?” Keith finds himself asking.

He shrugs again, patting the couch with his foot where Keith was sitting. “Why not? I’m not judging, I swear. Don’t mind at all.”

It sounds completely reasonable, which is the exact opposite of how Keith would have expected an offer to hang out with a plug in his ass would sound. Still, it’s admittedly a lot more appealing than popping out the toy and ending things right now.

See, Keith’s kind of likes being a tease. With himself, that is. He couldn’t give less of a shit about teasing random hookups.

“... Alright.” It might just be the weed, but something about Lance being really cool about this is definitely helping Keith’s nerves. The embarrassment is still there, and he definitely wouldn’t have chosen for this to happen, but now that it has…things could be worse.

He sighs when he sits back down, making no real effort to conceal the fact that the plug is very much in there and _doing things_. He’s not gonna be weird about it, don’t get him wrong — it’s not like Lance is going to get some sort of unsolicited live show. But if he said he’s cool with it, then Keith doesn’t really see the point in suppressing his reactions. It’d take way too much effort to do so, anyway.

Leaning back and shifting slightly, Keith closes his eyes and _really_ lets himself enjoy the symphony of pleasant physical sensations. His head feels kind of heavy and his brain is buzzing as a slight tingle relaxes his neck and shoulders. His limbs sink into the couch under the weight of gravity, and his ass clenches and unclenches around the glass orb he’d shoved up there. All his nerve endings feel like they’re being massaged from the inside out. It’s kind of fucking heavenly.

“Havin’ fun?” Lance asks, pulling him out of his slight trance. It takes Keith a solid five seconds to actually open his eyes and look over at his amused expression.

“Mmhmm,” Keith manages, smirking with the corner of his mouth. “Glad you’re chill about it. I thought you’d think I’m a freak.”

“Buddy,” Lance chuckles, “I totally think you’re a freak. It’s cool, though; I like that about you.”

Keith suddenly feels very seen. He feels himself blushing a little, and turns his attention to the screen, where the three dudes from earlier are in some sort of… swamp? To fish for catfish, apparently. He’d kind of missed most of the entire video, and he’s not entirely sure how they got there.

“What’s it feel like?” Lance asks suddenly, in a much smaller voice. It’s almost timid. Which is weird, honestly. Lance is never timid. He stutters a little when Keith eyes him, glancing back at the TV. “I’m curious, I dunno. You don’t need to answer me if you think it’s weird —”

“It’s okay,” Keith interrupts. Of all things, he doesn’t want to make Lance feel at all uncomfortable right now. Even if that means being open to questions. “It’s… it just feels really good.”

“Yeah?” Lance asks, clearing his throat. He’s still not really looking at Keith. “Like, how?”

“Like…” Keith squints. How the hell is someone supposed to describe what wearing a buttplug feels like to his straight roommate while high as shit? “Uh, it’s like… full. You know?”

Lance raises an eyebrow, finally turning his head to face him. He rests it against the armrest of the couch, blinking. “What?”

“It’s… it’s not like getting fucked. But it’s like you’re filled up and everything is all sensitive.”

He’s feeling a little embarrassed again—Keith’s never strung these words together out loud. Hearing his own voice talk about the finer points of anal play is kind of triggering some sort of weird out of body experience, like he’s not the one in charge of his mouth anymore. That’s also probably a weed thing, though. But as long as Lance doesn’t mind, he figures there’s no harm in continuing. It’s not like his mouth seems keen on letting him stop, anyway.

“If you sit one way for a while, and there’s no pressure on it, you don’t feel it as much. I kinda forgot it was there for a bit before you came and sat down.” He laughs to himself. “But then when I moved over I kinda put pressure on it, and I was reminded that it was there.”

Lance is staring at him intently with the most curious expression when he finally lifts his head. He looks a little confused, and a little like a deer caught in headlights, but there’s something _else_ about the way he’s looking at Keith that’s just…

It’s doing things to his head. He’s probably imagining it, though. There’s _no way_ Lance is into this.

“What would happen—” Lance starts, before cutting himself off and wincing. He shakes his head abruptly, turning his head to the TV once again. “Nevermind.”

Keith shifts a little, slotting his back into the corner of the couch and armrest. He’s got one leg leaning against the backrest and one hanging off onto the floor. “Huh? What would happen if what?”

When Lance looks at him again, his eyes _definitely_ trail down to where Keith is sporting a barely noticeable bulge in his joggers. Lance’s eyes trail further to where his own foot is resting in the middle of the couch.

“What if I… What if I touch it? Like…”

Holy _shit_.

“What if I helped it along, or something?”

Electricity shoots straight through Keith’s dick. His pulse pounds in his head, echoing off the walls of his skull and kicking the breath out of his lungs. He’s still not even sure what Lance is offering, but it doesn’t sound like there’s much room for interpretation. Against his better judgement, Keith locks his eyes with Lance’s mildly terrified expression, and takes the biggest gamble of his entire fucking night.

“Show me what you mean. Do it.”

The next second, Lance’s foot is pressing into his ass, pushing the plug up against his prostate. Keith moans lewdly and completely involuntarily, his eyes fluttering shut as he chases the euphoric pressure and pushes back into Lance’s foot. _Fuck_ , that’s _fucking good_ —

“Like that?” Lance mumbles. When Keith opens his eyes, Lance’s are heavily lidded and kind of drunk.

Luckily, Keith’s brain manages to catch up with him. As hot as everything is, he’s definitely got some wits about him—enough to realize that this is heading into _very_ dangerous territory. Getting off with your roommate is one thing—getting off with your _straight_ roommate is another. And getting off with an actual friend—

It’s a lot. It’s a handful of bad decisions he’s not sure he’s willing to make.

Here’s the counterpoint, though: it feels really good, and Keith wants more of it. And it kind of looks like Lance does too.

“Lance,” Keith pants, leveling him with a severe look. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I —” he huffs, furrowing his brow. “I wanna get you off. C-can I?”

“ _What_?”

“This is the hottest shit I’ve seen in a long time. I’m hard as a rock right now.”

Keith blinks, glancing down at Lance’s jeans where sure enough, a noticeable bulge is straining against the fabric. He’s pretty hung, apparently. That’s certainly not helping the situation.

“You know what you’re asking for, right?”

“Yeah. One hundred percent.”

“I’m a guy,” Keith adds, gesturing to himself. “You wanna hook up with a guy?”

Lance huffs out a puff of air, the corner of his mouth twitching a little. His bloodshot eyes dart all over Keith’s body as if drinking him in before dragging themselves back up.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess I do.”

“If you have some sort of crisis tomorrow, I’m not helping you work through it.”

Lance’s breath hitches. “Is that a yes?”

“Turn off the TV,” Keith orders in lieu of a response. His head is still sort of wrapping itself around all of this. His dick, though, has apparently decided it’s fully on board. Keith’s sporting a full-on tent in his joggers.

Said tent catches Lance’s eyes a moment later after he scrambles to turn off the video. The remote clatters to the floor from his hand, though he barely seems to care.

“We doing this?” he asks Keith, a little more tentative this time. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Keith’s eyes tracking the motion.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Yeah, I think we are.”

Lance pushes himself up not a moment later, getting onto his knees and leaning over into Keith’s space. Keith spreads his legs apart a little more, suddenly realizing he has no idea what to do with his hands. He settles them on Lance’s shoulders, marveling at how warm his skin feels through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Lance takes that as some sort of signal and pushes his knee right into Keith’s crotch, just up against the base of the plug.

“Aaaaa— _aaaah, fuck_ —”

Lance’s breath hitches in his throat, his hips stuttering to a halt. When Keith opens his eyes, Lance looks like he short-circuited.

“Keep going.”

It happens again, and though Lance’s chest is heaving, there isn’t a sound coming out of his mouth. The silence is odd—it’s unlike him.

“Talk,” Keith orders. “Say something —”

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Lance moans into his ear. “I wanna make you scream.”

“ _Nnngh_ ” he groans in response. “ _Where the fuck did that come from?_ ”

“I’ve always found you so fucking hot,” Lance continues as he keeps rocking his leg, shoving the plug further up Keith’s ass. He licks a stripe just under Keith’s ear, coaxing a high-pitched whine from his throat. _Fuck_ , Keith thinks. What the hell is going on?

Lance settles in further between his legs, their torsos pressing up against one another. Keith runs his fingers up Lance’s shoulders and neck before digging them into his short hair, scratching lightly at the root. He responds to Lance’s hip thrusts with his own, inhaling sharp, rhythmic breaths.

“ _Shit_ ,” Lance breathes, before kissing his neck. “Fuck, I can feel your dick. That’s so hot.”

Sure enough, his own solid cock is pressing into Lance’s thigh. The combined pressure from the plug and the dick stuff is dialing things up to _eleven_ , quickly making Keith lose his mind. Saying actual words is becoming sort of difficult, he realizes. Lance, however, does not seem to be having the same problem.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he says. “ _Fuck_ , I’m so hard, this feels amazing —”

“Mmph —”

Keith shuts him up with an open-mouthed kiss, pulling him in by the root of his hair. Though dirty talk is definitely something that works for him, hearing it in _Lance’s_ voice is still a little weird.

Lance startles for a second. He doesn't kiss back right away, and Keith nearly backtracks. Some "straight" dudes are weird about kissing, as if it's somehow more intimate than sharing orgasms (it's not; that's dumb). Surprisingly enough though, once Lance's brain catches up, he doesn't seem to be one of those dudes. He grabs Keith's hips, presses in further and catches his lips with his own. They lick into each other’s mouths, sharing sighs and moans between them as their hips start rocking together in earnest, building up to a full-on dry hump. If this is as far as things get, Keith’s definitely not complaining. It feels fucking amazing.

If someone had told him earlier today that he’d be making out with and rubbing off against _Lance_ of all people, Keith would have openly laughed in their face. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it—Lance has that preppy mama's boy thing going on that's honestly kind of hot, and Keith’s definitely let his mind wander on occasion--but he’d never actually thought Lance would be down. Presumed heterosexuality aside, Lance always treated him as nothing but a “buddy” or “bro,” in the same way he treats Hunk and, hell, even Pidge. If Lance has apparently been admiring him for a while now, Keith’s had genuinely no fucking clue.

The hard grind of Lance’s leg against his dick and ass is getting more and more electric by the second. Keith lets himself completely melt into it, heavy limbs taken over with undulating waves of pleasure. The kissing is a little lazier now, slower and more practiced as if they’re actually getting into a rhythm. If things keep going, Keith probably won’t last long.

Lance pulls off of him the next second, completely abruptly. Keith whines at the loss, cracking his eyes open to Lance sitting on his haunches and pushing up the hem of Keith’s sweatshirt. Breathing heavily, he massages his hands over Keith’s abdomen and down over the elastic of his joggers, right hand continuing over his bulge. He presses the heel of his hand over it experimentally, coaxing a moan out of Keith. He does it again. And again.

“ _You can take them off_ ,” Keith hisses.

“Sure thing,” Lance mutters, his eyes unfocused.

He hooks his fingers over the waistband, tugging them down to mid-thigh. Lance wastes no time pulling his boxers down as well, freeing Keith’s dick as it bobs up to his stomach. Lance manages to remove Keith’s legs from the confines of his clothing one by one, leaving him bare from the waist down and waiting. The base of Keith’s plug now on full display, Lance prods it with a couple fingers. It shifts inside Keith, brushing up against his g-spot and sending shockwaves of pleasure down his legs.

"AaaaAAAH!"

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lance mutters, eyes widening. “Can… Can I jerk you off?”

“You… ah, you can do whatever you want,” Keith huffs, willing the cloudiness in his mind to part just a little. If he’s gonna be hooking up with a friend, he might as well do it right. “Don’t slap anywhere but my ass. And no pinching or blood. Everything else is fine.”

“... Wow,” Lance breathes, trailing his gaze all over Keith’s exposed lower body. He reaches over and wraps long fingers around Keith’s dick, delivering a tentative squeeze. It earns him an approving hum.

He doesn’t start right away, though. Instead, Lance isn’t really in a rush. He’s admiring Keith like he’s something special, using his hands for exploratory purposes rather than just getting down to business. That’s… new. Guys don’t usually do that, at least not longer than maybe a minute tops. But Keith isn’t really complaining.

Lance’s thumb trails over the underside of Keith’s dick, thumbing at the barbell halfway down his shaft.

“... It looks good,” Lance mumbles, more to Keith’s dick than Keith himself.

“ _Thanks_ ,” Keith says, inhaling sharply. “I’d like to see yours, too. If you want.”

He punctuates the sentence by reaching his own hand down and cupping Lance’s bulge in his pants. Pushing things too far too soon isn’t really on his agenda; if this is really Lance’s first time with a guy (he’s pretty sure he’d have heard about it otherwise), Keith’s going to do everything in his power not to scare him off.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to be shy about it, though. Keith’s not afraid to initiate.

“ _Hah,_ ” Lance pants, pushing his hips further into his palm. “It doesn’t need to be about me.”

“If you wanna just do me, that’s fine,” Keith manages with a little effort. Honestly, it’s taking everything in his power to resist grabbing Lance and grinding into him again. “But I wanna make you come, too. If you’re down.”

“Mmm.” Lance falls forward onto his left elbow, caging Keith in with his body. His right hand still wrapped around Keith’s dick.

“And then—”

“...Then?”

Keith takes a deep breath, figuring their friendship is just about ruined anyway.

“You can take the plug out and fuck me, if you want. I’m game for that, too.”

“ _Fuck, Keith_ ,” Lance groans, hiding his face in his shoulder. He cants his hips forward again, grinding against Keith’s palm. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Mm?”

“I’ve wanted this…a long time. _Fuck_ —”

… Wait.

“Shit, I can’t believe it’s happening —”

“What the fuck?” Keith spews, pulling his hand back.

He really didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but it was a knee-jerk reaction he wasn’t really able to control. Eyes wide and chest heaving, Keith attempts to swallow the mounting panic in his throat. It doesn’t help that Lance looks absolutely _terrified_ right now. _Shit_ , okay, Keith really didn’t mean to do that. It’s damage control time.

“Hey, no, I didn’t mean —”

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispers. He sits back, cupping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide like saucers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t —”

“No, no, no—” Keith scrambles to sit up, grabbing at Lance’s shoulders. He searches his expression, locking their eyes together. “I was surprised. I didn’t mean —that’s…that’s okay.”

Lance blinks. “What?”

“It’s okay. If…” God, he can’t believe he’s even saying this. How strong was that fucking weed? “If you’ve wanted… if you’ve wanted this a while, that’s okay. I just, I had no idea.”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Lance, I thought you were straight,” Keith elaborates, his voice as controlled and level as he can manage. “So, no, I didn’t think you wanted to fuck me.”

Lance scoffs. Okay, what the fuck is his problem?

“ _What?_ ”

“I was sending you so many _signals_!” Lance squawks, waving his arms a little. “For MONTHS!”

“ _... WHAT_?”

“I’m not _straight_ , Keith. Are you crazy?”

“Uh—”

“Holy shit,” Lance huffs, grinning. He shakes his head, bringing his hands to rest on Keith’s jaw. “You’re so dumb.”

“Excu—”

It’s too late to retort, though. They’re kissing again.

Choosing to dwell on how little of any of this makes sense would be a waste of time, honestly. Keith’s still high and still not done making questionable decisions, figuring that Lance seems to be in the same mindset. He wastes no time fumbling with Lance’s belt buckle the moment he’s pushed back against the couch, his own dick finally getting stroked in earnest.

“Lube,” he whispers into Lance’s ear, nipping at his lobe a moment later. “It’s in my pocket.”

“Where?”

“My sweatshirt. The only pocket.”

Lance laughs, all breathy and soft as he shifts over and digs a hand into the front of Keith’s orange hoodie. “You keep lube in your sweatshirt?”

“I’m wearing a plug,” Keith huffs. “Easy access.”

Lance wastes no time warming a dime-sized amount in his hand. He brings it to Keith’s dick, stroking him in a slick rhythm. It’s _heavenly_ —every pass of Lance’s hand over his uncut head has his nerve endings singing. His body goes limp and heavy, mouth parting in sharp inhales and slightly higher-pitched whines, his ass clenching in response around his plug.

The extra pressure on his prostate and added weed intoxication is turning this handjob into one of the best he’s ever received in his life, not to mention the fact that his gut does a backflip every time he opens his eyes enough to catch a glimpse of Lance’s absolutely sex-drunk expression. _Fuck_ , if they really could have been doing this for months, Keith actually does feel kind of dumb for not initiating things earlier.

There’s no time like the present to make up for it, though. Thing is, Keith is literally melted into the sofa cushions, probably completely incapable of doing any more work himself. He only got Lance’s belt half open before losing all muscle coordination, but he’d really like Lance’s dick to be in on the action.

“Take off your clothes,” he manages between heavy breaths.

“Mmm.”

Lance shucks off his t-shirt and throws it across the room. He fumbles with his belt until it clatters to the floor. Keith palms at the bulge straining in his jeans as he unbuttons his fly and finally, _finally_ shimmies out of his pants, getting up just long enough to let them fall to the ground. Taking a steadying breath, Lance kneels back onto the couch and slides his blue and white pinstripe boxer briefs down his thighs, letting his dick spring out.

“Holy shit,” Keith breathes.

“I’ve heard it’s big,” Lance pants. “If it’s too much we don’t need to fuck, no worries. I don’t wanna hurt —”

“ _Shut up_.”

See, Keith was kind of _trying_ to just pull Lance in to rut senselessly against his giant cock, but his depth perception and dexterity kind of went out the window with all the weed. Instead, Keith swipes at the air and makes a couple frustrated huffs when he realizes Lance is probably an inch or two further away than he looks. He lets his limbs fall back into the sofa cushions, whining impatiently as Lance chuckles and brings his lubed hand to his own dick, giving it a couple strokes.

“Can I try something?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Yeah, whatever, just do it!_ ”

“Oookay, okay!” he laughs, raising his left hand up in surrender. Leaning forward, he brings their dicks together and wraps a hand around them, delivering a couple experimental strokes. They moan in tandem, and Keith somehow musters up enough energy to wrap his legs around Lance’s torso, pulling them further together.

“Why,” Lance pants, “why are you still wearing a sweater?”

“C-cause some idiot hasn’t taken it off yet.”

It’s thrown to the floor two seconds later.

There’s something a little different about the sensation of skin-on-skin. Without a single article of clothing separating them now, Keith pulls Lance closer with his legs again. He digs his heels into his lower back and snakes his arms under Lance’s, fingers slipping over his back to grip between the divets of his muscles. Lance tightens his grip around their dicks, relying less on the motion of his fist and more so on that of their hips to deliver friction. It feels like sex; it’s not just “getting someone off” anymore.

It’s intimate—even more so when Lance pulls back from kissing him and looks Keith right in the eye, their breaths mingling with only an inch of space between them.

“ _That good_?” Lance asks in a gravelly whisper.

“Mhm,” Keith whines. He feels Lance knee the plug up his ass a second later. “ _FUCK!_ ”

“You’re so hot, _fuck_ —”

“Aaaaah —”

“Hah, s-so good. _Fuck_ , you like that, Keith?”

He’s so fucking close. Holy _shit_. Their dicks slipping against one another in Lance’s tight grip, his ass fucking _loaded_ to the brim, prostate relentlessly jabbed by both Lance’s knee and the glass plug. It’s completely overwhelming and driving him entirely senseless.

“I’m, uh,” Lance’s hips stutter. “I can’t last —”

“ _Coming — ”_

Keith's vision whites out, a sharp detonation shocking his senses. What starts off as an explosive orgasm doesn’t just end right there — it continues, waves of pleasure undulating from where his ass is filled with glass all the way to the tip of his dick.

“ _Keith—ffuuck_...”

Hot come hits his stomach and chest, adding to some of what was definitely already there. Keith manages to open his eyes just enough to see Lance’s pinched expression, mouth open in a tight “o” and back spasming as he thrusts his hips only one, two more times. He falls onto Keith’s chest a second later, lungs heaving almost in tandem. Keith’s limbs go limp, legs falling off Lance’s back, one into the couch cushions and the other off its side.

“ _Mierda_ ,” Lance mutters into Keith’s chest.

“...What?”

“It’s…it’s ‘shit’ in Spanish.”

“Oh.”

They stay like that for what’s likely a few minutes, just breathing and basking in the afterglow. Keith’s not really sure what’s going to happen next — to be entirely honest, he’d probably need about ten minutes of recharge time before he can go again, but he doesn’t want to push it. This is _Lance_ , of all people, someone he actually kind of genuinely cares about as a friend and roommate, and he’s not sure where exactly they stand now. If Keith being honest, he’s a little scared of finding out.

Some insistent scratching noises break their trance.

“... Shit,” Lance breathes, before getting up and scrambling to the back door, his knee pushing against Keith’s plug again, this time on accident.

“HAH!”

“Sorry!” Lance yells, opening the back door. Blue’s paws pad along the kitchen tile. “Sorry, baby!” he cooes. She meows in response.

As if on cue, a bark emanates from Keith’s room. Great, Kosmo’s definitely excited his best cat friend is home now. Jesus _Christ_ , looks like the sex business will be cut short.

When he finally, very reluctantly, sits up on the couch, Keith reaches up to re-tie his hair and surveys the damage around him. Sure enough, there’s clothing strewn everywhere, come all over his torso, and ashes scattered on the floor from where his metal tin got knocked over. The half litre container of peanuts somehow rolled across the floor. Yep, they definitely got high and _definitely_ banged here. The physical evidence is pretty hard to ignore.

He glances over to Lance in the kitchen. The man himself is standing stark naked with a cat under one arm and paper towel in his free hand, dabbing it against his chest and stomach with a frankly adorable focused expression. Keith smirks a little, leaning back into the couch. He can’t really help it. Lance is fucking charming.

“Can I get some paper towel?”

“Oh?” Lance glances at him, blushing. “Yeah, sure thing.”

Instead of just throwing the roll over, he sets his cat down and walks over to Keith with a fresh sheet. Before Keith can really say anything, Lance is kneeling next to him and dabbing his chest and stomach, obviously intent on doing all the work himself.

“So,” Lance starts, a careful note in his voice. He doesn’t look up from where he’s cleaning things. “What… what do we do now?”

It feels like a loaded question. It could mean many things. Thankfully though, Keith’s brain is still running on horny autopilot, and he’s not quite ready for some sort of deep emotional talk.

“Gimme ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go again.”

“What?” Lance gasps, finally meeting his gaze. “Seriously? You seem a little out of it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Keith answers, shrugging. He clenches his ass provisionally, pleased to note that things still feel pretty good down there. “I’m game for round two.”

“ _Jeeeez,_ dude,” Lance laughs, resuming the cleanup. “You’re relentless. I’m not even sure I can get hard again —”

“I’ll get you hard again,” Keith says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Lance rolls his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his features. “Well. If you insist.”

Ten minutes later, the living room looks less like a warzone. The ashes are swept up and the clothing is tossed haplessly onto the papasan. Still, they opt to migrate to Lance’s room to give the animals some play time.

Hooking up on an actual bed is a pretty good idea, honestly. Lance’s mattress is kind of low to the ground, just the right height for Keith to sit comfortably at its edge with his head at dick level while Lance is stood in front of him. He strokes a couple times before guiding Lance’s cock into his mouth, squeezing his fist at the base and closing his mouth around it all tight.

Now that Keith is ever so slightly less high, he’s realizing Lance’s dick is more to the larger end of the ‘normal’ spectrum as opposed to colossally giant, which is kind of a relief. Keith talks a big game, but he was slightly worried for the state of his ass for a second there.

He hums around Lance’s dick, savouring the weight of it on his tongue and the pressure from sitting on the plug. The deep, comforting feeling of being filled from both ends makes his mind a little more quiet and pliable, unable to think of much else. He’s not able to do much, either — Keith’s body still feels kind of limp and heavy, and he lets Lance take over after only a minute. One hand on his shoulder and the other spread at the back of his head, Lance starts thrusting in and out of his mouth lightly, clearly taking great care to not overwhelm him.

It’s much appreciated. Keith may be an occasionally insatiable sex fiend, but his gag reflex is actually pretty bad. So much for stereotypes.

Lance picks up speed after a couple minutes after quietly asking for the go-ahead. His thrusts are rhythmic and practiced, not unlike earlier, and his body shudders occasionally as Keith licks his tongue piercing at his frenulum. He shifts his weight on the plug and groans, mouth vibrating around Lance’s dick.

“ _Fuuck, yeah,_ ” Lance groans. “Mmkay yeah, you got me hard again.”

“Mff muh muh.”

“What?”

Keith pops his mouth off Lance’s cock. “Told you so.”

Lance’s chest heaves, his mouth twisting into a lazy grin. “Wanna bang?”

“Hell yeah.”

Keith’s on his back not a minute later, legs spread wide. Lance settles between them and grips the base of the plug.

“I, uh,” he starts, blinking. “I’ve never done this.”

“Fucked a guy?”

“No,” he furrows his brow, “I mean yeah. Like… Okay, I’ve never fucked a dude, yeah, but I’ve done anal so I know how asses work.”

Keith chuckles. “Alright.”

“I mean, I’ve never taken out a buttplug. You gotta either tell me how, or do it yourself. I don’t wanna fuck up.”

Blinking, Keith’s eyes widen. “Oh. Okay yeah, I’ll do it myself.”

Lance sits on his haunches to give Keith space.. He watches intently as Keith snakes a hand under his backside, gripping the plug’s base himself. He takes a moment to collect himself before pushing his ass muscles out and slowly pulling out the plug, wincing slightly and exhaling a little as the widest part of the bulb passes through his ass. Watching Lance’s face contort from pleasantly curious to evidently impressed makes something warm bloom in his chest. The plug is easy to fully remove after that, and Keith rolls onto his back to collect himself.

“Wow,” Lance breathes. “That was…not small.”

“It’s not that big, either,” Keith pants. “You’re bigger.”

“I better be,” Lance mumbles, giving his own dick a preemptive tug. “Wouldn’t wanna disappoint.”

“You’d never disappoint,” Keith says without thinking. His cheeks burn a second later at how… intimate that sounded, but he means it.

Blinking his eyes slightly wider under downturned eyebrows, Lance bites his lip and locks their gazes together. “You mean that?”

“Of course,” Keith breathes. He wracks his brain for something less embarrassing to say, and comes up short. Oh, well. “Fuck me from behind?”

Lance snorts, reaching for a condom. “You bet.”

He groans into Lance’s pillow the second he’s filled again, this time definitely a little wider than before. Keith’s ass barely has any room to maneuver as Lance sinks into him, squeezing his fingers into his ass cheeks.

Lance sighs. “ _H-hooly shit—_ ”

“Nnngh —”

"Can I slap —"

" _Yesss_."

Lance delivers a sharp smack to Keith's right cheek when he bottoms out. Keith keens, chin jutting out into the pillow. Lance curses and smacks him again, this time keeping his hand right where it hits and kneading the flesh. Keith’s skin sings with pain and pleasure, a comforting burn spreading out from the deepest reaches of his ass.

“You good?” Lance manages to ask. “Ready?”

“ _Yesss, fuck. Do it._ ”

He thrusts his hips forward, and Keith loses his entire mind.

In Keith’s own humble opinion, getting railed from behind is one of the most stimulating and overwhelming experiences known to man. His ass is full to bursting, walls pushed and prodded and stretched as Lance’s hips relentlessly pound into the area surrounding his asshole. His thoughts are a constant stream of “fuck yes fuck fuck harder” and he’s sure at least some of those words manage to escape his mouth in slightly incomprehensible babble, eventually morphing into primal, gutteral noises devoid of linguistic meaning. The neighbours can probably hear them. The neighbour’s _neighbours_ , too. Keith hopes to god that no one files a noise complaint. He has no clue what time it is.

“ _M’ gna come again,_ ” Lance says after an indiscernible amount of time. “ _Fuck, I’m gonna come —_ ”

“HAAAAAAAH!”

He feels a hand grip around his dick, only needed two tugs before Keith is coming all over Lance’s dark blue sheets. He feels hips stutter at his back as Lance swears lowly, no doubt spilling into him. Keith’s entire body goes limp after that, falling forward into a puddle of wetness on Lance’s pillow. He realizes, absentmindedly, that he’s been sort of crying and sort of drooling into it the entire time. It’s a little gross, but Keith’s too fucked out to care.

Opening his eyes seems like a colossal task. Moving, making any sort of noise, too. Keith just lies there, completely spent and incapacitated as he feel some shifting on the mattress, the faint sound of rubber snapping, and a warm weight at his side. Something cards through his hair, pushing the strands back behind his ears.

“Hey,” Lance whispers into his ear. Keith only grunts in response after a feeble attempt at forming words.

He hears a breathy chuckle in his ear. “I’m gonna go wash my dick —”

“ _Nuh_ ,” Keith groans, shaking his head feebly. He finds what must be Lance’s arm against the bed, squeezing it weakly with one hand. “Sst.”

“What’s that?”

“Stay,” he manages though the tight ball in his throat.

The hand is back in his hair, trailing down the back of his head, the back of his neck, and thumbing at his cheek and jaw.

“Okay,” he hears, whispered into his ear. “Kay, I’ll stay.”

Keith is out like a light.

⁂

It’s the sun that wakes Keith up first. He can feel the bright heat of it against his eyelids, pouring in through what must be a window of some sort. Keith’s bedroom is the only room in their apartment without windows, which means —

Ah, right. He fell asleep in Lance’s room. After they fucked. Twice.

Keith has barely any memory of the night after their second round of hooking up. He’s pretty sure he just fell asleep straight away, too high and relaxed and fucked senseless to stay awake any longer.

Rolling onto his back, Keith winces slightly at the soreness and faint burning in and around his ass. A bruise-like ache emanates from his right buttcheek, reminding him of the multiple smacks delivered right there at Lance’s hand. Slowly, as he blinks his eyes awake, last night’s events come tumbling into his head, as if his body remembers how everything felt and his brain is only catching up. In the faintest reaches of his mind, some vague recollection of sleeping next to a warm body comes into view.

 _Great_. Looks like Keith might need to move out. Hopefully Shiro won’t mind him crashing on the couch for a month or tw—

“Morning, princess.”

“Buh?”

Keith pushes himself up onto his elbows, blearily glancing at the door frame. A small, messy-haired and bespectacled figure comes into view, wearing a giant long-sleeve shirt and plaid boxers.

“Morning, Pidge.”

"The living room looked disgusting last night." She crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Did you and Lance fuck?”

“Uuunnngh,” Keith groans, falling back into bed and running a hand over his face. He feels her weight shift onto the bed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

To his surprise, however, when he finally musters up enough courage to face her again, she’s grinning.

Keith scrunches up his brow. “What?”

“He’s been insufferable for months, always telling me about how he _almost_ got enough courage to do something and then chickened out last minute.”

“...What?”

“He was always like, ‘Pidge! We smoked weed together and watched Youtube videos and our thighs touched but I got scared!’”

“ _What?_ ”

“Or, like, ‘Keith keeps staring at me when I take off my sweater, so I let him get a look at my abs, and I know he’s looking but I don’t know how to bring it up —’”

“Are you serious?”

She cackles in lieu of a response, shaking her head. “You didn’t know?”

He scowls. “Wha— _No!_ ”

“Keith!” she yells, laughing again. “He thinks you’re the hottest person ever, and he’s not subtle about it. You’re _seriously_ telling me you had no clue he was interested?”

“PIDGE, OUT!”

In the doorway, Lance stands stock straight and bug-eyed, his face a deep shade of crimson. In one hand, he holds a tray with two portable coffee cups; in the other, a brown paper bag.

Pidge shoots up from the bed and scurries past him, leaving faint giggles in her wake.

“Sorry!” she calls over her shoulder. “Have fun!”

The door shuts, shrouding them in absolute silence. Lance shuffles over awkwardly to the bed and sets the coffees and bag down on his bedside table. He hasn’t really looked at Keith yet.

“Uh,” Keith starts before shutting his mouth abruptly. He has no fucking clue what to even say, especially not after that.

“She’s right, you know,” Lance huffs. He fiddles with the hem of his jacket sleeve, brow furrowed. “I… I’ve been interested since we moved in. I thought it was a terrible idea at first, so I tried to ignore it, but…”

It’s obviously taking a lot for Lance to string his words together. Without thinking, Keith slides a hand over and rests it over Lance’s knee, his thumb rubbing encouraging circles into the fabric of his pants.

Lance blinks at it, looking both confused and relieved all at once. It seems to be enough to give him the encouragement he needs, however. Leveling Keith’s gaze with what looks like more than a little effort, he continues.

“You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met, Keith. I love hanging out with you. You’re so funny, and kind, and I thought you were this scary, intimidating tattooed guy but you’re really just a giant dork —”

“ _Hey_ ,” Keith interrupts, smirking. “That’s my biggest secret. No one’s supposed to know.”

That one earns him a breathy laugh. Lance shakes his head at his lap, bringing his hand to cup Keith’s over his knee. The sight of their hands together—Lance’s long, brown fingers against his own pale, inked hand—stirs something up in Keith’s gut. It’s makes _sense_. There’s no real other way to put it.

“Yeah. I like you, too, Lance.”

Lance’s breath hitches. He blinks his eyes at Keith, the corner of his lip twitching. _Damn_ , it definitely feels good to be looked at like he hung the moon itself. How Lance’s interest completely slipped his notice is entirely beyond him. Keith must be denser than he gives himself credit for.

“You mean that?”

“Yeah,” Keith grins. “I’m also pretty sure you made me come so hard I blacked out, so you’ve got that going for you, too.”

Lance sighs, bringing a hand to his chest. “I’m honored.”

“What’s that?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow at the contents of the bedside table.

“I brought breakfast. Took Kosmo out for his morning piss ‘cause I didn’t want to wake you up, and bought us coffees and muffins.”

“Oh.” It kinda feels like Keith’s heart is melting. That’s… new.

“What do you say?” Lance asks, all hopeful and wide-eyed. “Breakfast in bed? I gotta wash the sheets anyway.”

“Fuck yeah,” Keith grins.

Lance hands him a muffin from the bag and pokes one of the coffees toward him before shrugging off his jacket and getting more comfortable in the bed. “It’s soy.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Hey, uh… can I kiss you?”

“Hm?” Keith freezes, eyes widening.

“Like,” Lance huffs, taking both Keith’s hands in his own. “Y’know, if you wanna _be_ with me. Like, _with_ with —”

He never gets to finish that sentence. Keith is too busy occupying his mouth.

Their lips slot together, Lance’s lower lip fitting nicely between Keith’s. He sucks a little, prods lightly with his tongue, and everything is slow and languid like they’re in no rush to be anywhere. It’s different than kissing while fucking; it’s softer, less hungry and more vulnerable.

Keith knows he has morning breath, but neither of them seem to care. Lance’s thumb traces lightly over his knuckles, squeezing his fingers as he pulls away. Keith chases him, delivering one last peck to Lance’s lips before grinning and wrapping his arms around his waist, his face buried in Lance’s neck. It’s warm, and solid, and Keith could probably stay like this forever.

“Hey,” Lance whispers in his ear. “After we eat, you down for round three?”

He laughs, muffled by Lance’s neck. Nodding, Keith pulls back and rests their foreheads together. His cheeks are already sore from smiling.

“We could do that. Or—”

“Or?”

“I could go right now.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “You’re an animal.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I think I kinda do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2 days, which was interesting. Hyperfocus is one hell of a drug.
> 
> I actually have two smut oneshots in my WIPs at the moment, and hopefully I'll be getting those out at some point! You can subscribe to my smutshots series if you want updates.
> 
> Tumblr: sir--cumference (2 dashes!)  
> Twitter: @sircumf
> 
> [This is the Bon Appetit video about catfish "noodling"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JkcZRBUNtw)
> 
> [This is the reblog link, feel free to share this fic! <3](https://sir--cumference.tumblr.com/post/189920716094/another-saturday-night-sircumference-voltron)
> 
> THANKS FOR READING! I hope you're having a lovely end of year!


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